


Stress in Writing

by orphan_account



Series: Random Drabbles [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26879899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: No alpha or beta. Just because I'm growing impatient for your bday, dear friend.Rated for language, and that's all.<3 I hope you enjoy
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Random Drabbles [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1463191
Comments: 16
Kudos: 59





	Stress in Writing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyonomiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyonomiko/gifts).



> No alpha or beta. Just because I'm growing impatient for your bday, dear friend.   
> Rated for language, and that's all.   
> <3 I hope you enjoy

* * *

_Running, running, running._

_Running through the dark of the night._

_Running, running with all her might—_

“Fuck, no.”

Draco drops his quill and drags a hand down his face.

Hopeless. It’s all hopeless.

And yet…

He glances down once more at the parchment. Hoping that maybe… just _maybe…_

“Rubbish.” He crumples it into a ball and throws it to the door. It lands just to the right of the small pile already collecting there since this morning.

“Knock, knock,” his wife calls out. Not really knocking, and not really waiting for him to answer if he’s being honest. But that doesn’t bother him. Not in the slightest. Not when her soft brown eyes and wild curls are waiting to greet him on the other side.

“Enter if you dare,” he answers, face knitting together in a snarl at the balls of fucking nonsense now mocking him from the other side of his office. “I’m currently in a foul disposition and nothing can tempt me from this mood.”

Hermione folds her arms over her chest, smirking and leaning against the door frame. “That sounds like a challenge if you ask me.”

“Really?” He likes the tone of her voice. The flirt in her eyes… His fingers drum over his desk and he remembers that he’s mad. And in no mood to be coddled. Or pity fucked, even by his wife. “Save you energy, love. It’s a hopeless sort of day.”

“Can’t be because the day’s not over yet. Maybe your brain needs a break.”

“I’ve already had my fucking brain breaks, _Granger_.” He doesn’t mean to snap, but… Salazar. His arms flail about as he waves and motions about like a lunatic. “I’ve taken a walk, weeded the flowerbed, and made two bloody pots of tea by now, had a sandwich, and you can see where that’s all gotten me.” He casts a withering glare at the small pile of rubbish parchments. 

“You’ll find your words,” she says. Like it’s nothing at all to sit down and _write_. Fucking _write_ a story for a deadline. She picks up the ball of parchment he’d just thrown at the door before she’d come in. “Maybe try to write something for you and that’ll inspire what you’re really supposed to be doing.”

“That mess of a poem you’re holding in your hand _was_ something for me.” He’s not angry at her. Not at all. But, Merlin, he’s at his snapping point today. It’s been like this all week, and it’s driving him mad. “That was supposed to be something nonsensical and a story that didn’t have to have a plot or work together. It was just supposed to be a stream of consciousness writing. Words coming together.”

Hermione looks up from the wrinkled parchment, an incredulous brow lifted high at him. “It’s a poem with a very clear plot, that suddenly becomes too complex And you were trying to rhyme. Too much thought. Think of sentence or theme or a feeling. Or describing something without ever saying what it is.”

Draco narrows his eyes at her, an attempt to say he has the upper hand, but really…

Her ideas aren’t half bad…

“Fine.” He sighs. Rubs his temples.

Picks up his quill.

And starts to write.

Fully aware of how much lighter and better it feels to leave the door open. Open for Hermione to come and go as she likes.

Because that’s how _he_ likes it best.

And something about open doors and understanding wives giving out challenges and desks made for stress shagging is what he writes about for the rest of the day.


End file.
